Capture it
by Cards
Summary: I too know how it feels to be beaten, take your hatered, Capture it, and one day let it take you to what you are meant to do.


A small boy sat in a corner, the apartment was dark and dreary there was no real furnishings but a bed and a cot sat on opposite sides of the room. Empty glasses and a few utensils were littered on the floor. He curled trying to make himself look smaller and smaller to disappear into the darkness. He bit his lip to stop a yelp from escaping as his knee pushed on a large bruise across his face. He looked through the slight hole his knees made where they didn't quite fit, his arms crossed over still didn't block what little light there was in the room from hitting his eyes. He gulped hearing his uncle clomp up the stairs, the heavy man made the staircase shake, causing the small girl knitting to gulp and run down to the stoop with the other girls. 

The boy whimpered slightly hearing his uncle push the door open "SEAN!" He yelled out as the boy uncurled, gulping as his sore legs stretched his back, bloody from the belt cracked lightly they split open again bleeding on his shirt. The boy cursed slightly. 

He gulped walking to the door "Yes?" He asked softly, his lips drip and cracking. 

His uncle handed him a nickel "bring the bucket to the pub and fill it, and heaven help you if you spill a drop!" He yelled. Sean grabbed the bucket and made to run but his uncle cuffed him hard before he escaped the door. 

The young boy yelped running to the stairs. He paused at the top looking over his shoulder to make sure that the man wouldn't follow him. His uncle slammed the door muttering in Irish. Sean grinned his dry lip cracking, but he hardly noticed the pain. For at least five minutes he was free. He lived his life for those five minutes of freedom a day. Slowly he walked down the stairs, taking his time he thrust his shoulders back and grinned. The scabs on his back slowly healing over. He didn't care that there was an old woman watching him from her doorway. Sean smiled as he walked, smirking at his reflection in an old mirror hum on a door to ward off the evil eye. 

His blue eyes were proud, proud of his bruises and cuts. They were who he was he wasn't ashamed of that. He wasn't ashamed of anything for those five minutes. As he opened the heavy door of the tenement building the girls glared at him. He never played with their siblings. Never talked with them, they thought he was too proud. Never noticed that he was only outside at this time. All they saw was his proud smirk, bruised and bloody face held high. He walked over to the pub and stood in front of the counter, he was small, but leggy. When he grew older he would have long legs. But now he only looked scrawny. 

The pub owner sighed seeing the boy, he knew him. This Sean Conlon, he gets sent down every day, each time with a new bruise or even a break. Two months ago he'd been coming in with a broken arm carrying the heavy bucket filled with beer with only one arm. The boy had refused help. He was proud and there was nothing wrong with his pride. The man recognized it as pride that was rooted deep in the self that no amount of beating could ruin it. 

The owner felt sorry for the boy, never wanted to give him the beer. He knew that he could help the boy. Sean wasn't above all help. When he had broken his arm he had fled the small apartment to the pub. The owner had felt somewhat sad that he had no other place but the pub to go when there was an emergency. The owner's wife had splinted up the break and fed the boy. The owner sighed filling up the bucket.

"Now be careful" He grinned taking the nickel, regretting it and putting it in a small jar under the counter he had started to save for the boy.

"I will" Sean said, his voice was clear as if he knew what the man thought of him. He held his delicate chin higher and thrust his shoulders back all the more. "Thank you!" He grinned walking out of the bar. The owner sighed. He himself was not more the thirty and felt sorry for the young boy, wishing he could take Sean in himself.

Sean grinned walking down the street, mindful of the cobbles, watching them for uneven places so he wouldn't spill. As he walked carefully up the stairs one of the boys tossed a ball at him. It his Sean square in the back. He gulped watching the amber liquid slosh around, his confidence draining slightly worrying over the amount of liquid that might crest over the pail. As he saw the boy come up behind him he gulped moving faster into the safety of the tenement. The darkness filled in around him only slight light coming from the door and the window in the back. He walked quietly up the stairs, well worn shoes silent against the tile. 

Slowly he pushed open the door of his tenement. His uncle glared grabbing the beer pail and gulping it down quickly, the beer falling over his lips and flowing down his face and belly. Sean gulped not wanting to think of what was to come when his Uncle finished the beer. 

Soon the man threw the pail aside. "You took to long!" He yelled. Smacking the boy across the face he swore violently he slapped him again. The boy yelped as he fell down with the force of the swing. "Get out of my sight!" He yelled

Sean smiled. He'd never been offered that before. Never been told to leave. His uncle always wanted him around to beat. It took him about ten seconds to run out the door before his uncle could change his mind. 

As he sat at the top of the stairs he realized something, he had no place to go, he could go to the pub but would they want to take care of a boy who was so much trouble. He gulped feeling very alone. Then he heard a door open, immediately he sprung up expecting it to be his uncle about the belt him. Instead it was an old woman "Come" She said softly, her eyes filled with the painful screams she hear from this boy every night. 

Sean nodded walking into her apartment. She wasn't rich and the apartment was small, she lived with no one. But there were pictures on the wall of her family the faces on the wall were full of hopes and dreams. They weren't contained by frames but were put up simply to allow the beaming faces of her children and grandchildren to light the room in a way that no gas could do so. Sean sat delicately on a chair, not moving his sore back against the back of the chair. He gulped watching the old lady. 

"I know how you feel" She said softly, handing him a piece of meat. Sean ate it quickly the only food he'd had all day. "I was beaten once." She said softly. "The hate you feel, Capture it, let it protect you then one day, you'll know when. You will let it ride you out of here onto great things."

Sean nodded silently understanding her. "Yes Ma'am" He whispered. 

"You will no longer need to roll your self into a ball as to not be spotted, but you will be the spot that things go to."

Sean nodded his chin high again eyes now burning with ambition that he knew was his.

Disclaimer: Dun own Spot

Author's notes: Look at it. Cards wrote something.

Cards on: Die- I wanna learn to play craps…


End file.
